


A Change in Routine

by Schattengestalt



Series: Let Me Love You [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, FTM Sherlock Holmes, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sexual Roleplay, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattengestalt/pseuds/Schattengestalt
Summary: Sherlock's spotted and captured, while invastigating a crime ring. Luckily for him, the boss of the criminal organisation, is no stranger to him.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty
Series: Let Me Love You [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814503
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	A Change in Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!*waves*  
> I know, that I promised a new story to this series, every month, but RL got in the way, of that promise. I'm sorry and I hope this story will make up for it. It's not what I usually write, but Jim and Sherlock insisted on it, so here we are. Let me know what you think.

### A Change in Routine

They had got him! It was the first conscious thought, that flickered through his mind, when Sherlock came back to himself. The temptation to open his eyes was great, but he forced himself to keep them closed and his breathing even, while he analysed the situation. He was sitting on a chair. An office chair with wheels, from what Sherlock could tell, when he wriggled his feet a little. Maybe he could use this to his advantage... if he ever managed to free his hands, from where they were tied together, behind his back. 

He flexed his fingers carefully and almost groaned in frustration, when he realized that the men he had followed were good at their job. While they had used standard rope to tie his hands together, their knots were extremely professional. They weren't cutting off the blood flow to his fingers, but they also didn't give him any room to move his hands. Therefore even if they hadn't stripped him down to his pants and shirt, Sherlock wouldn't have managed to retrieve the rasp or the safety pin, from his sweatshirt or jeans.

Sherlock sighed inwardly, as he felt the ground with his bare toes. They had even thought of taking off his shoes and socks. He had definitely underestimated them. His feet encountered the texture of fitted carpet. So it was highly likely, that he was still in the office block to which he had followed his targets. For once he hoped that Mycroft made use of his CCTV system and got Sherlock out of this situation, in time. Nevermind that he would never hear the end of it, but enduring his brother's smug smile was certainly preferable to getting killed by a gang of smugglers.

Sherlock kept his eyes closed and his breathing even. for another five minutes. When he didn't register any sound or movement in the room with him, in that time, he dared to open his eyes and lift his head. The sight of an extremely ordinary office - illuminated by a sole desk light - greeted him. Somehow he had expected something else.

"And what? You followed the men into an office block, did you think they had a torture chamber on the sixth floor or something?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the sarcastic voice in his head. He simply hadn't expected the criminals to be so boring and... ordinary.

"God, you already sound like Jim."

Sherlock huffed out a snort through his nose, but forced himself to continue breathing calmly, as his lungs protested against the lack of air at that. Damn, but he hated gags. Sherlock tensed his lips and grimaced slightly, when the tape tore at his skin. Sadly, the criminals hadn't been as sloppy as most other men of this species tended to be. Instead of just slapping a small piece of tape over his mouth, that Sherlock could have gotten off, they had wrapped the tape twice around his head. He only hoped that he wouldn't lose too many hairs when it was taken off.

"Really, you worry about your hair?!"

Sherlock only shrugged at this. He could also start to worry about what the smugglers had planned for him, but this wouldn't be useful at all. In the best case scenario, they would simply leave him tied to the chair, until he either managed to free himself or was found by someone. If Sherlock was especially unlucky, they would kill him. And there were many more scenarios, that could play out and end with him either alive or dead. There was no use in worrying about all of them, just now. Sherlock only hoped that his state of almost complete nudity could attributed to the thoroughness of the criminals and not to something else. He really didn't fancy getting raped tonight. His skin broke out in cold sweat at the thought and Sherlock had to focus solely on breathing, for the next couple of minutes, to get himself back under control. Panicking wasn't an option. He needed to focus.

His eyes swept over the massive desk and the bookshelf, that reached from the glass front to the door. Not especially helpful, since Sherlock couldn't get his hands on one of the huge tomes to defend himself. There was also nothing placed on the desk, that might help him to free himself. Not to mention, that he was just positioned far enough away from the desk, that he couldn't reach it at all.

Sherlock wriggled on his chair to get it to move, but he realised a second later, that the wheels had been blocked. Great, he had obviously managed to get captured by the only criminal gang, that thought of every eventuality. While other groups would have been foolish enough to deposit him on the couch, which he could glance from the corner of his eyes, these men didn't leave anything to chance. Sherlock was only grateful that they had obviously drugged him with a light narcotic, instead of knocking him out any other way. At least, the lack of a headache or dizziness spoke for this theory. Besides, the last thing Sherlock recalled before falling unconscious was opening a door, hearing a hissing sound and then feeling a prick at his neck. The only logical explanation was that someone had used a blow pipe, to hit him with a dart. 

Sherlock frowned slightly at this. Who would think of placing men with blow pipes in a building, as a line of defence against intruders? It sounded as crazy as it was brilliant. He would have entertained, that thought for longer, if it hadn't been for the steps, that sounded in the corridor. Sherlock closed his eyes and pretended to still be unconscious, just in time for the door to open and three men to enter the room.

"We caught him snooping around in the building, boss," one of the man explained. Sherlock strained his ears, without moving another muscle, as feet moved quietly over the fitted carpet, to where he was tied to the chair. It had to be the boss, who was getting closer to him. At least, it sounded like the other men had remained standing by the door. Sherlock caught a whiff of expensive after-shave, as the boss came to stand next to him.

"I think it's this detective guy with the funny head," another voice added and Sherlock had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at that. God, he hated this damn picture, that the media had splattered everywhere. "Shall we kill him? We can put the body in one of the shipping containers. No one will ever find him."

Sherlock tensed against the ropes, that held his hands tied together, as adrenalin surged through his body. He needed to convince them, that he would be of more use to them alive than dead. If he could at least manage to keep them from killing him, for another twelve hours, then the chances, that his brother would find him were extremely high.

A hand landed on his shoulder, just when Sherlock was about to open his eyes and pretend that he was waking up. "No need for such dramatics," a bored voice trailed. "He doesn't know anything of importance and I have already seen to it, that we move to a different location."

"But Boss," one of the man dared to protest and was interrupted by an angry snarl. "I will take care of him and you focus on doing your job. Understood?!"

Sherlock didn't need to open his eyes, to know that the men were frightened out of their minds, when they bid their hasty goodbye and left. He couldn't fault them for it, Jim could be extremely scary, when he was angry.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed lightly, after the steps of the two men had faded away. "I know that you are awake," Jim told him in his sing-song voice.

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly. The room was lit more brightly, by a ceiling lamp, now and it took some time for him to get used to it. When he finally did, his gaze sought out Jim's right away. The gleam in the dark eyes told Sherlock that his lover was barely keeping himself from laughing, at the predicament Sherlock had got himself into. Great, he would never hear the end of this.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, when Jim snickered quietly. Of course, his lover would find this funny. He wasn't the one, who was tied to a chair, in his underwear, after all. No, Jim was dressed in a perfectly tailored midnight blue suit, complete with a white button-down shirt and a fitting tie. Sherlock couldn't help, but hate him a little for the unfairness of it all, even as he had to admit, that his lover looked absolutely dashing like this. Especially with the wicked grin on his lips and... No, this wasn't the right time or place for such thoughts.

Sherlock stretched his head in Jim's direction and moaned impatiently, when his lover didn't make any move to free him of the tape. Instead Jim circled him once and then came to stand in front of Sherlock, with his head cocked to one side, as he regarded him calmly.

"My my, Sherlock. I wouldn't have expected you to be so careless." Jim shook his head in mock disappointment. "Look at you, half naked and tied to a chair. The things I could do to you."

Sherlock couldn't help the spark of arousal, that shot through his body at Jim's words. He didn't completely understand the reaction himself. It wasn't that he enjoyed the idea of being at someone's mercy but... it was different when it came to Jim. Sherlock knew, that his lover would never hurt him and yet the idea, that he had the power to choose otherwise was thrilling. His reaction must have been written all over his face, since Jim regarded him carefully and then slowly darted out his tongue to lick his lips. "Interesting," he purred and the sound sent a shiver down Sherlock's spine, as he waited for his lover's next move.

OOO

Now this was unexpected. Jim took in Sherlock's dilated pupils and how he squirmed slightly on his seat. When he had been informed that someone had broken into the building, he had already suspected his lover ,to be behind it. Who else would walk into an office building, at night, because he suspected it to be a meeting point of criminals? No one was that crazy. No one, except Sherlock obviously. Not that Jim minded. Not at all. If his lover weren't as starved for danger as he was, then life with him would be utterly boring. He was only glad, that he had ordered his minions to catch every possible intruder alive otherwise... No, Jim didn't want to think about this possibility. Not now, when he had Sherlock like this and all the evidence suggested that his lover was interested in more. Jim peered down at Sherlock and stroked his cheek with his hand, conscious of the blue eyes, that watched him cautiously. "Do you want to play with me?"

Jim felt around the edges of the tape and sighed inwardly in relief, when he noted, that most of Sherlock's curls would be spared. He wouldn't have heard the end of it, if his lover would have to walk around, with a less than perfect haircut. He retrieved his penknife, from the inside pocket of his jacket and carefully cut the tape on each side of Sherlock's face. His lover didn't move a muscle and only gasped in surprise and pain when Jim tore the tape off, in one fast move. He would take care of the parts that were still glued to Sherlock's curls, later. "Sorry, but it's better to take it off in one swift motion."

Sherlock still didn't reply and Jim frowned down at him. "It's obvious, that this situation arouses you." Jim lightly traced a flushed cheek, with his index finger and then pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Sherlock's lips. "I am certainly interested to explore this further, but I need to know, that you want to, as well."

Jim had indulged in a fair share of various sexual activities, in the years, before he had got together with Sherlock, but only ever with willing partners. He wasn't going to start anything, if he wasn't certain that his lover was up for it, as well. No matter, that Sherlock looked like he was on the verge of begging for attention, but until he gave Jim verbal consent, nothing would happen. There were some lines, that even he wouldn't cross, especially not when it came to Sherlock.

"If you aren't interested I will cut you lose and we will meet back home, once I have finished my business here," Jim added when Sherlock remained silent. He didn't want his lover to believe, that he had to indulge Jim's fantasies and a remainder that they shared a flat and a life, no matter what, should help to make this clear.

Sherlock lifted his head and gazed up at Jim. "What if a I want to play?" His voice was challenging and curious, at once and Jim grinned at that. "Then we will play. Do you want to?"

One moment of hesitation and then Sherlock nodded. "Yes."

Jim's lips curled up into a smirk. This night promised to get interesting. Slowly, he circled around Sherlock and pulled at the rope that kept his arms tied behind the chair. The knots were tight, but not tight enough to cut of the blood flow. As long as Sherlock didn't struggle too much, he should be fine. And seeing as Jim didn't intend to make his lover fight against his ties, they were on the safe side. 

He leaned over Sherlock's back and stroked his hands down, from his shoulders to his chest, and placed his lips right next to his lover's ear. "Say Yellow if you want a specific activity to stop and Red if you want to stop altogether. Kick me, if you can't speak."

They were the most basic safewords, but they would work just fine, for them, tonight, although Jim didn't intend to put Sherlock in a situation, in which he would need them. Nevertheless, one could never know and Jim didn't want to destroy the trust, that had been built between them, for a little fun. If they decided to play more often, after tonight, they could still decide on personal safewords and talk about their limits. For now though, enough security measures were in place to guarantee that they both had fun.

"Understood," Sherlock nodded to his words and Jim ruffled his hair playfully, before he completed the circle and came to stand in front of his lover, once more. "Mhm," Jim tapped his finger thoughtfully against his lip, as he regarded Sherlock and then allowed a smirk to spread over his face. "You are wearing too much."

Sherlock scowled at him. "I can't change that. I am a bit tied up right now, if you haven't noticed."

Jim snickered. "Oh not to worry, my dear. I have the perfect solution." He slowly rotated the knife between his fingers and then stepped up, to stand between Sherlock's legs. "Hold still!" He whispered as he brought the blade to the neckline of his lover's shirt. Blue eyes widened, in understanding and Jim winked at him, before he cut through the material in one swift move. A gasp was torn from Sherlock's lips, when his chest was bared to the air and Jim didn't waste any time in cutting away his pants, as well. Then, when his lover was completely bared before him, Jim took a step back and just looked.

"Beautiful," Jim breathed, as his eyes swept over Sherlock's body. His chest was flushed with heat. His nipples were hard and perky, practically begging for Jim to suck on them, until his lover screamed. The thought sent blood rushing between his legs and Jim felt his cock swell, in his trousers. Damn, he had much too little self-control, when it came to Sherlock.

Jim still forced himself to stay perfectly still, while his gaze moved lower and followed the trail of dark hair, that led from Sherlock's navel, down between his legs. The curls hid his lover's most private place, from Jim's eyes, but that didn't stop him from imaging how Sherlock would look spread out before him. He only needed to conjure the memories of some of their sexual encounters, to know what would await him, if he were to part Sherlock's legs and touch him. Jim licked his lips at the thought and his cock gave an impatient twitch. Fuck, but he needed to do something about that, if he intended to savour their little game.

"Seems like you enjoy what you see." Jim's eyes snapped up to meet Sherlock's cheeky grin. "Maybe you should take off your clothes, tool before you... soil them," Sherlock suggested, with a pointed look at the bulge, in Jim's trousers.

"Or maybe," Jim purred dangerously and stalked towards Sherlock, "You could help me out." Jim pressed down on the lever, of the chair, with his foot and watched as it sunk lower, until Sherlock's face was on level with his crotch. He stepped between the outstretched legs of his lover and grinned down at him.

"Not very original," Sherlock drawled, but the spark in his eyes spoke of his approval. "Sucking your cock isn't new."

Cheeky, Jim mused in appreciation, as he traced Sherlock's plump lips with his finger. "Who said anything about you sucking my cock?" Jim whispered in a low voice and nipped at Sherlock's lower lip, while he opened his trousers and freed his throbbing cock from its prison. He lifted his head, to look directly into his lover's heavily dilated eyes and then grabbed a handful of curls and pulled Sherlock's head back an inch. "I am going to fuck your mouth, until you are hoarse. I will use you for my pleasure and you will just sit here and take it, for as long as I want. And then, I will come down that pretty throat of yours," Jim stroked a finger down his lover's bared throat and felt his elevated pulse, "And you will swallow every drop of it and be thankful for it!" Sherlock's lips parted in a tiny gasp and Jim took that as an invitation to shove his cock into his mouth and as far down his throat as possible.

OOO

Sherlock opened his mouth wider to accommodate for the girth of Jim's cock. He gagged a little, when it was pushed down his throat before, he managed to relax his muscles.

"Good boy," Jim praised in a barely restrained voice and Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed, when his lover thrust his hips forward. God, but this felt different than everything, they had done before. Jim was in complete control over the situation and Sherlock could only sit here and take, whatever his lover had in store for him. A tiny part of his brain tried to point out, that this wasn't exactly the case and that he could end the game, whenever he wanted but Sherlock shut it up. No need to shatter the illusion.

Jim pulled his hips back, just long enough for Sherlock to take a gulp of air and then thrust down his throat again. Harder this time. Sherlock's jaw grew slack. Spit was dripping down his chin, as Jim started to fuck his mouth, in earnest. There was barely enough time for Sherlock to draw breathe, while his lover used him for his own pleasure. His heart was pounding in his chest. His lungs were straining, from the lack of oxygen, only to expand in relief, when they were allowed a gulp of air. Sherlock's mind was dizzy, muddled by endorphins and his flesh was throbbing with lust.

"Oh you like that, don't you?" Jim's voice was breathless from pounding into Sherlock's willing mouth and he twisted the curls in his grasp. The sensation hovered between pleasurable and painful and also sent a surge of warmth through his body. Sherlock squirmed, when wetness pooled between his legs. He would give anything for Jim, to touch him there, to reach down between his thighs and bring him relief. But this wasn't going to happen. Not yet, anyway. Sherlock knew as much and while it felt like torture, it heightened his pleasure, at the same time. The idea, that he would have to wait, until Jim deemed it appropriate for him to come, was enough to make him moan. No sound left his throat though, since Jim was still efficiently gagging him, with his cock.

Sherlock's eyes started to leak tears, when his lover picked up his pace. The hand in his hair tightened even further, when Jim's rhythm grew more erratic and Sherlock breathed heavily through his nose, when his lover's cock thickened, even farther. Jim pushed into his mouth, one more time and then stilled completely. His cock pulsed in Sherlock's mouth and his lover's semen shot down his throat.

"God, yes," Jim moaned above him and Sherlock peeled his eyes open, to look at his lover. His face was twisted, in pure pleasure and sweat glistened on his forehead, but he appeared completely unmoved, otherwise. Even his suit looked as unruffled as before. Sherlock's flesh gave an insistent throb, at that and he groaned when Jim's spent cock slipped from between his lips. He flickered his tongue out, to give the head a lick and earned a chuckle for it.

"Cheeky." Jim's grip loosened in his hair and he carded his fingers gently through Sherlock's curls. Sherlock leaned into the contact, still panting for breath, even though his heart rate was slowing down, again.

"You were such a good boy," Jim murmured against his ear and then let his lips wander to Sherlock's mouth, to capture it in a deep kiss. Sherlock hummed in pleasure, when Jim licked into his mouth. The gentle contact stood in stark contrast, to how his lover had pounded into him, only moments ago.

A whimper was pulled, from his sore throat, when Jim broke the kiss and stepped back. "Patience." Jim chuckled and tucked his spent penis back into his trousers. "We aren't finished yet."

"No?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow and ignored how hoarse his voice came out. "It looks like you are finished already."

"Oh, that?" Jim glanced down his front, at his perfectly fitting trousers and shrugged. "That was only foreplay. The real game will only start, now."

A shiver ran down Sherlock's spine. If that had only been foreplay to Jim, then he was almost afraid to know, what else he had in store for him. Almost, Sherlock trusted Jim to know what he could do.

"Firstly," Jim stepped up next to Sherlock again, "You will push yourself up, with your legs, so that your arse doesn't touch the seat of the chair."

Sherlock frowned slightly at this. That didn't sound like much fun, for either of them. He was just about to voice his disapproval, when Jim rolled his eyes at him. "I need to push the chair back up and if your full weight lasts on it, that's not possible."

"Oh." Sherlock felt his face flush, in embarrassment. He hadn't considered, that this would be necessary, but he recognized the logic behind it. The muscles in his legs strained, as he pushed himself as far up and off the seat, of the chair, as his ties allowed. Sherlock was grateful, when Jim gestured for him, to sit back down, even as he noted that his lover hadn't pushed the seat up to the same height, as before. Sherlock was still sitting very low.

"Well done." Jim pressed a kiss to his forehead and Sherlock exhaled quietly. The simple words of praise made him quiver with need.

"Now then," Sherlock's eyes snapped up to Jim, who was standing much too far away, once more, "Let the game begin."

"What game are we playing?" Sherlock didn't really expect an answer to the question. Therefore he was even more surprised when Jim replied. "It's a simple one. I will ask you a question and whenever your answer is correct, I will touch you wherever and however you want... for a full minute."

His heart jumped at the promise, but Sherlock forced himself to remain calm - or as calm as possible. Jim's games were never that easy to win. "And what if I give the wrong answer?"

A devilish gleam entered Jim's eyes. "Then, my dear," Jim let his gaze roam over Sherlock's body, "I will decide where and how to touch you for a full minute."

Sherlock gulped even as heat pulsed between his legs. "What's the goal of the game?"  
Jim's smirk grew devilish. "To make you beg for me to finish you off."

Good God, Sherlock barely managed to suppress a groan, at that. He was almost ready, to beg for release, but... No, that would ruin the game. And Sherlock truly wanted to play it, although he was aware, that it was designed for him to lose. This time around though, it didn't matter, that Jim was the guaranteed winner. Not when Sherlock knew, that he would still get a reward.

"I don't beg," Sherlock retorted haughtily, well aware, that the game had already started.

"We will see about that." Jim licked his lips provokingly. "Now, shall we start?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Something easy to begin with." Jim massaged the bridge of his nose, with his fingers, as if deep in thought and then grinned triumphantly. "What is the average molecular weight of the 80th element of the periodic table?"

Sherlock almost sneered at the easy question, but held himself back just in time. It wouldn't do to get too boastful, when Jim would certainly come up with more complicated questions, soon. "The average molecular weight of mercury is 200.59 Dalton. How can you even be sure that I got it right?" Sherlock couldn't withstand the temptation of wondering aloud. "It's not like you are very well-versed in chemistry."

This earned him a chuckle, as Jim reached into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved his mobile phone. "There is an invention called the internet." Jim smirked at Sherlock's pout and then typed a few words into his phone and nodded. "Looks like you got that one right. Now," Jim stalked towards him, until he was standing right between Sherlock's legs, "Where do you want to be touched?"

Sherlock inhaled slowly and goose bumps rose all over his body, when he breathed in Jim's expensive aftershave. Fuck, but he wanted his lover so badly. He almost told Jim to rub his clit, but then thought better of it. One minute of concentrated stimulation, in this area, in his state of arousal wouldn't get him off, but it would certainly made him desperate for more. If Sherlock didn't want to beg for Jim, like a wanton, in the next round, then he had to choose more carefully. "Your lips on mine."

Jim nodded approvingly, like Sherlock had just chosen an especially good wine, at a restaurant and then leaned forward to claim his lips, in a kiss. Sherlock opened his mouth, in a sigh, as Jim moved against him and then groaned in frustration, when Jim didn't follow the invitation. Instead his lover sucked Sherlock's lower lip between his own, only to press feather light kisses to his upper lip, a second later. Even though the lack of tongue, the contact was still as pleasurable as any touch from Jim was and Sherlock was just about to get lost in it, when an exploding sound interrupted them. 

Jim withdrew from Sherlock, at once and held up his phone with a grin. "A new notification sound, for when our minute is up." Sherlock only glared at him silently. His lips were still tingling from the kiss and his whole body was yearning for more.

"Next question," Jim winked at him, "It's also fairly easy. Which planet of our solar system is the third closest to the sun?"

Sherlock groaned. "Not fair," he complained, even as he tried to recall, in what order the planets were organized. He came up blank. His Mind Palace only offered the information, that the earth orbited around the sun. That didn't help him at all. He could only guess then. "Pluto," he tried only for Jim to burst out in laughter.

"Pluto isn't even a planet anymore." Sherlock frowned, he could have sworn, that he had heard somewhere that Pluto was one of the planets, in the solar system.

"Nevermind," Jim wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "You got it wrong and I will touch your right nipple with my lips."

Sherlock whimpered, as warm breath ghosted over his sensitive flesh, only to have the sound turn into a moan, when Jim's lips closed around his nipple. Fuck, but sometimes he wished, that they weren't still so sensitive. Every time Jim sucked on the erect bud, sparks rushed through his whole body and the gentle kiss afterwards, only served as a stark contrast, to make the next attack on his flesh, even harder to ignore. He was almost glad, when the phone announced, that the minute was over and Jim released his nipple. Almost being the operative word here, seeing as Sherlock's whole body was yearning for his lover's touch.

"Delicious," Jim smacked his lips together and then regarded Sherlock through hooded eyes.  
Sherlock was thrilled to note, that Jim's cheeks were adorned by a hint of colour, as well. Obviously, his lover wasn't completely unaffected by their game. But before he could celebrate this small victory, Jim cleared his throat. "Right, next question," Jim smirked. "What's the civilian name of the super hero Spiderman?"

Sherlock grinned. "Peter Parker." In retrospect, the boring case about the stolen comic books had been a small price to pay, for the look of complete astonishment on Jim's face. "Your tongue in my navel," Sherlock announced haughtily. Hopefully, this would arouse Jim more than himself. Sherlock certainly wanted to draw this game out, for as long as possible. At least this way, it wouldn't feel like he had lost completely.

"As you wish." Jim's voice was pure silk, as he sank gracefully down between his legs. Sherlock realised that he had made a miscalculation, with his choice, as soon as his eyes fell on the head of dark hair. The picture Jim posed, crouched down like this, was too similar to how he looked, when he was about to suck him off, as to not arouse Sherlock further. The sensation of Jim's skilled tongue, when it dipped into his navel, only resulted in a wave of pure frustration, as his body had been prepared for a different kind of stimulation. And to top it all off, Jim teasing his navel and pushing his tongue in and out of it, felt even better than Sherlock had anticipated. By the time the phone ended this session, Sherlock was tingling all over.

"Mhm, delicious." Jim licked his lips provocatively and got back to his feet.

"You look like you enjoyed it immensely," Sherlock pointed out, even as he tried to get himself back under control. And while Jim's flushed face didn't help him, to calm down, it at least gave him the satisfaction of knowing that his lover wasn't completely unfazed by their game. In fact, Sherlock's eyes darted to Jim's crotch, it appeared that his lover was enjoying it just as much as he did. 

Jim waggled his eyebrows at him, but didn't reply to Sherlock's statement. Instead he seemed to muse something over for a second, before he nodded to himself. "Who is the head of state of Great Britain?"

Sherlock grimaced. The only times, that he had any contact with the royal house, was when one of its members needed his help. Aside from that, he didn't pay much attention to the royal family. But wait, a memory flickered through his Mind Palace, of John and him at Buckingham Palace. Hadn't they joked about seeing the Queen? Right, but what was her name again? His mind only provided one for him and Sherlock decided to take the risk, seeing as he had no other choice. "Queen Victoria?"

"My tongue on your clit," Jim announced in lieu of an answer, with amusement evident in his voice, as he sank down between Sherlock's legs. Sherlock's whole body shook in anticipation, when Jim parted his labia and he moaned, even before Jim's tongue, so much as touched, the sensitive knob of nerves. God, but he wanted... No, he needed...

Sherlock couldn't think clearly, while Jim teased him mercilessly, with his tongue. His whole being shrunk down to the spot between his legs, as his pleasure climbed to new heights. Just a little bit more and he would... he would...

"No!" Sherlock protested, in frustration, when Jim got back to his feet. He had been so close. Right on the other side of the edge and his whole body was screaming for relief. His flesh was throbbing, with need and if Sherlock's hands hadn't been tied behind his back, he would have rubbed himself off.

"Ah, you are so beautiful when you are desperate." Sherlock glared at Jim, but then smirked when he caught his lover adjusting himself, in his trousers. "Obviously, I am not the only one."

"True, I am affected but," Jim pressed a hand against the bulge in his trousers. "Unlike you, I can get off anytime I want. Maybe I should do just that." Jim cocked his head to the side. "What would you say if I just had a brief wank and came all over your chest?"

"Only over my dead body," Sherlock growled. 

Jim laughed. "That would be a waste, but alright, I will control myself... for now." Jim winked at him. "So, how do bees communicate?"

Sherlock frowned slightly. Jim knew of Sherlock's interest in bees, so why did he ask him such a simple question? Did his lover believe, that he was already so far gone, that he couldn't think clearly anymore or was this some sort of test? It felt impossible to figure out, with most of his mind focused on his throbbing flesh. Therefore, Sherlock only concentrated on the most important part. "They use a waggle dance to communicate. Your fingers in me, please." God, but Sherlock was desperate, for any kind of stimulation. One minute, of getting fucked by Jim's fingers, was much better than prolonging the game by demanding his lover lick his nose.

"More specific, please or I will just put a finger in each of your ears." Sherlock rolled his eyes at his lover, who only smiled innocently at him. "I want you to fuck my pussy, with your fingers." Sherlock put emphasis on every word and watched in satisfaction, as a shiver ran down his lover's spine. Jim should have never told him, that he loved it, when Sherlock used profane language, during sex.

"I assume you only want two of my fingers and not all of them." Jim scissored his index and middle finger in front of Sherlock's face. "Otherwise, it will take some time - maybe even a few days - to stretch..."

"Just get on with it already." Sherlock pushed his pelvis in Jim's general direction, who laughed, but sank gracefully to his knees, once again. "Bossy!"

Sherlock didn't get the chance to give a retort, because he was too busy, gasping for air, as Jim shoved his fingers as fast and deep inside him, as possible. The pace was almost brutal and yet exactly what Sherlock had hoped for, as he pushed up against his lover, to take him in even deeper. Warm liquid dripped out of his hole, as Jim took him at his word and fucked him with his fingers and Sherlock felt his resolve to prolong the game, for as long as possible, slip away, when Jim hit an especially sensitive spot in him. No, he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to come or he would go crazy and seeing as there was only one way to achieve this: "Please," Sherlock gasped out, when Jim pulled his fingers out of him and he felt empty all of a sudden.

"Please, what?" Jim brought his fingers up to his mouth and closed his lips around them. He moaned in pure bliss, as he licked them clean and Sherlock couldn't hold back a whimper. "Please, make me come."

Jim pulled his fingers out of his mouth and gave each of them one last lick, before he regarded Sherlock thoughtfully. "Are you sure?"

"For fuck's sake, yes!"

"Language, dear." Jim snickered. "But fine, you have convinced me, that you are truly desperate and seeing as I am a nice guy," Sherlock snorted at that, but Jim continued unperturbed. "I will give you the chance to get off. Now to decide how to go about this." Jim tapped his left foot onto the floor and looked Sherlock up and down carefully.

As if he hadn't already decided, how to end this game, Sherlock thought, with equal parts annoyance and desperation. He would bet his violin, that it would involve Jim getting off as well, judging by the state of his trousers. Which was perfectly fine with Sherlock, as long as he finally...

"Let us play a game," Jim started and ignored Sherlock's frustrated groan. "One last question and if you give the correct answer, you decide, how we both get to come and if you are wrong I decide."

"Ah, now you want to come as well?" Sherlock teased his lover, who merely shrugged. "I didn't set a limit on how often each of us could come."

Sherlock huffed in mock annoyance, but nodded his consent. "Fine, ask away."

"Who did compose Eine kleine Nachtmusik?"

Sherlock's mouth opened of its own accord, to give the correct answer – Mozart - before he managed to close it again, with a snap. He frowned at his lover. Jim had to know, that Sherlock would get such an easy question right so why... Oh, of course! 

Sherlock's lips curled up in a smile. The quiz wasn't the real game, this time. And it wasn't even a real game. This was Jim's way, of letting Sherlock decide, how much control to give his lover, over the last stage in their game. Brilliant!

"Beethoven," Sherlock told Jim, without flinching and watched as a huge grin broke out, over his lover's face. 

OOO

"Wrong!" Jim snickered quietly and winked at Sherlock. It was obvious, what his lover had done and nothing, that Jim hadn't expected. In fact, he had hoped for his lover ,to make this decision, seeing as Jim had already decided on how to finish this game. 

"I am shocked, sweetheart." Jim shook his head in mock disappointment at his lover, even as he reached down, to slip his belt off. "I thought you knew your composers better than that."

Sherlock didn't reply and Jim smirked when he noticed on what his lover's eyes were focused. "Like what you see?" Jim palmed his cock through his trousers and bit down hard on his tongue, to keep himself from groaning, at the sensation. Damn, but he was ready to burst, again. Watching Sherlock, all aroused and desperate always had that effect on him. More so, especially now, when his lover was completely at his mercy.

"Although it doesn't actually matter if you like it or not." Jim mused and pulled his zip down. "Seeing as you lost the game and all." Jim grinned devilishly at Sherlock and then grabbed his lover's thighs, without any warning and pushed them up and sideward. "Nice view," Jim remarked, as he took a step back and regarded his handwork with unmasked hunger. Sherlock's legs were hanging over the armrests of the office chair and baring him completely to Jim's eyes.

"I could take a picture of you like this," Jim thought aloud. "We could hang it over our bed, at Baker Street. If you were out on a case, I wouldn't have to imagine anymore, what you look like during sex. I would only need to look up, to see you all needy and flushed. Your hole begging for me to fill it. What do you say?"

Sherlock whimpered, but he didn't put his legs back down, instead he attempted to spread them even wider. Jim allowed himself a smug grin. His calculations had been correct. "Fine, we will do a photo shoot another time." Jim freed his cock from the confines of his pants and gave it one firm stroke, before he moved to stand between Sherlock's spread legs. His lover was on the perfect height for Jim, so that he only would have to push forward, to sink into his lover's tight heat. He made a mental note to buy the office chair for their flat.

"Do you know what I am going to do now?" Jim leaned forward, to whisper into Sherlock's ear and at the same time rubbed the head of his cock over his wet hole. 

"No, tell me!" Sherlock pushed his hips forward, in an attempt to move against Jim's cock, until his arse was almost completely hanging of the edge of the chair. "I am going to fuck you!" Jim bit down into Sherlock's earlobe. "I am going to fuck you so hard, that you will still feel it tomorrow. And you will come from it. My cock in your tight, hot pussy, that's all you will get tonight, so you better get off on it!"

"Oh God," Sherlock groaned at Jim's graphic description, of what was about to happen.  
Jim smirked knowingly. When they had first entered their relationship, he had been careful about how he referred to his lover's genitals. As soon as Jim had learned though, that Sherlock enjoyed such dirty talk, he had been all too willing to indulge him.

"You are all talk but... Fuck!" Jim smirked, as he thrust into his lover and interrupted his cheeky complaint. "Don't underestimate me, my dear," Jim breathed dangerously against Sherlock's lips, only to claim them in a hard kiss, a second later. Their teeth clashed together, when Jim braced himself on the armrests of the chair and started to make good on his promise. It wasn't the most comfortable position, with him bent over Sherlock's body and his legs somewhat still restrained by his trousers, but Jim was adamant to make it work. Sweat was running down his back and making his shirt stick to his skin, as he thrust as hard and fast into Sherlock's tight heat as possible. But his lover's moans and whimpers were more than enough to make up for his efforts.

Sherlock was close, damn close. Jim knew all the signs. From how Sherlock was squirming underneath him, over his high-pitched whines, to the clenching of his stomach muscles. Oh yes, it was obvious that Sherlock was right on the edge and it was just as obvious, that he needed a little push to come. Jim brought his lips to Sherlock's hair while maintaining his rhythm. "I am about to come," he panted and knew, from the tightening in his balls, how much truth this statement held. "I am going to fill you up!" Jim slowed his thrusts, for a few seconds, to buy himself some time, before he picked up his pace, again. "And do you know what I will do if you don't come as well?" Jim nipped at the sensitive spot on Sherlock's throat, right under his ear and provoked a moan from his lover. "If you don't come, I will leave you here like this: Naked and tied to this chair, until I am ready to go again. I will fill you up again and again, my come dripping out of you, until you come!"

"Oh dear... Fuck!"

Jim groaned, when Sherlock's inner walls contracted around him, as his lover tumbled over the edge. It took all of his self-control, not to follow after him, right away. Somehow though, Jim managed to contain himself, to deep and slow thrusts until his lover's high was ebbing away. Only then, did Jim speed up, once more. He braced his weight on one hand and moved his other down between Sherlock's legs. His coordination was only good enough, to allow him, to press a finger, to his lover's clit, as he thrust into him. It was enough though, to make Sherlock cry out, again.

Sherlock's scream mingled with Jim's own, as his orgasm crashed down over him. Stars exploded before his eyes, as he came into his lover and it was all he could do, to keep upright, while his body shook from exertion. 

For a few moments, the only sound, heard in the room, was the mutual panting of the two men, as they tried, to get their breathing back under control. Jim was the first to recover and although he would have loved nothing more than to collapse on top of Sherlock, he knew that this wasn't an option. Firstly, it wouldn't be comfortable for long and besides, there was no way, that he was going to leave his lover bent like this. Carefully, Jim lowered Sherlock's legs back down, to the floor and rubbed his lover's trembling thighs soothingly.

"Just give me a second and I will free you of the ropes," Jim murmured and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead. His lover only hummed in response. Obviously still a little stunned from their game and Jim hurried around the chair to cut the ties. Once they fell to the floor, Jim gently brought Sherlock's arms back around, to his front.

"You have scraped your wrists a little," Jim informed his lover, after he had inspected his arms closely, "But it should be healed in a couple of days." Jim rubbed first Sherlock's right and then his left hand between his fingers, to stimulate the blood flow, even as he frowned down at the marks on his lover's skin. It wasn't too bad, considering how Sherlock had torn at his ties, at the end of their game but...

"Don't look like that." Jim looked up to meet exhausted, but sharp blue eyes, when Sherlock came back to himself. "I have certainly had worse and it was also totally worth a few scrapes."

"We will still use something else to tie you up, the next time." Jim pressed a kiss to each of Sherlock's fingers and then slung an arm around his waist. "Let's get you up."

"Maybe I will tie you up the next time." Sherlock winked and allowed Jim to help him to his feet and they made their way over to the couch.

"I am all game," Jim returned with a smirk and watched as Sherlock sat carefully down, on the couch. Not exactly sore from the looks of it, but his muscles had certainly been strained. Maybe the office chair wouldn't be such a great investment after all.

"I will just go to the bathroom, on the corridor and get you something, to clean up with." Jim stroked Sherlock's cheek, with the knuckles of his fingers and smiled warmly, when his lover leaned into the touch. He was tempted, to simply stay with him, like this a little longer, but they would both regret it, if he did. Come tended to get sticky, when left to try in the air and Sherlock wouldn't thank him later, if his pubic hair was turned into a mess.

With a regretful sigh, Jim separated himself from Sherlock and marched towards the door. He collected his lover's slit shirt on his way out. It would make for a good flannel. Jim dashed in and out of the bathroom - only giving himself a fast rinse - and managed to get back to Sherlock, in under five minutes. He grinned, when he spotted his lover sprawling unabashed, on the couch, as he made his way over to him. "Aren't you afraid that someone else could walk in on you?"

Amusement was mirrored in Sherlock's eyes, when he glanced down the length of his body and at Jim, who gently wiped between his legs, with the wet shirt. "You had your wicked way with me, for a couple of hours, while I was naked and tied to a chair. Neither one of us was exactly quiet and yet, no one walked in on us. Therefore, it stands to reason, that we are either completely alone in the building or that your minions are trained so well, that they don't barge in, when they know that you are busy."

"Well done," Jim couldn't help himself, but praise.

"Oh, shut up." A snicker fell from Jim's lips, when he noticed the embarrassed blush, in Sherlock's cheeks. He certainly needed to praise him more often, if that was the reaction he got for it.

"Budge over." Jim threw the flannel to the ground and gestured for Sherlock to move his head, so that he could sit behind him.

"I shouldn't have allowed you to order me around at all," Sherlock mumbled, but lifted his head. "Your ego doesn't need more feeding, as it is."

"Talk about pots and kettles," Jim snickered, as he climbed on the couch behind Sherlock.  
It took some manoeuvring, but finally Jim reclined against the armrest, with Sherlock lying between his legs and a head of messy curls resting on Jim's chest.

Silence settled over the room. Jim alternated between carding his fingers through Sherlock's hair, rubbing his shoulders and pressing kisses, to any part of his lover's body, that he could reach. Meanwhile, Sherlock seemed to have dozed off, snuggled close to Jim. They would need to get home, at some point, Jim mused with a look out the glass front. It was about an hour left, until dawn and two hours, until the first employees would come to work. None of them was on Jim's payroll, so they should be gone by then, if he didn't want to call in some favours.

Jim glanced down at Sherlock, who was resting peacefully against him. With his eyes closed and the lines smoothed out on his face, he looked like a young, innocent prince. Reflexively, Jim closed his arms around Sherlock's middle and breathed a tender kiss to his forehead. He knew, that his lover didn't need his protection, but for now, he gave himself over to the illusion, that he was responsible for keeping Sherlock safe. In half an hour at the latest, Jim would wake his lover, hand over the clothes, that his men had confiscated and get them into a car back home. But until then, Jim would savour the trust, that Sherlock placed in him, by holding him as close and securely, as he could.


End file.
